A Savior's Call
by jmora747
Summary: A new member has joined Team Rainbow, a medic. Serving in the USAF as a PJ, he risked his life so others may live. Now he must go from a rigid military life to the more casual Team Rainbow while adapting the high-stress mission set. Friendship, sacrifice and a little bit of romance. (May go to M for both violence and ya know, other stuff)
1. Op Profile

Operator Codename: Blindside

Name: Luke Hernandez

Date Of Birth: July 12, 1990

Height: 1.96M

Weight: 102KG

Place Of Birth: Galveston, Texas

Biography:

Considering his upbringing, it is no surprise that Hernandez is where he is now. Hernandez was born the only child of middle class, Hispanic, and Catholic parents with a long history of government service. His father was a long time federal law enforcement officer and his mother was a VA trauma nurse. From them, he learned a love of country and the selfless ideals of service.

In his early years, Hernandez was a significantly overweight child who was often bullied. His bullying continued well into his middle school years and built a layer of mistrust around the young man who isolated himself from people at school. His freshman year he joined the wrestling team. The coach saw potential in him and had Hernandez stay after practice for extra conditioning. By the end of season Hernandez lost over 20kg and was a state runner up. In the offseason, he was again approached by his longtime tormentors who still hoped to gain some satisfaction off embarrassing him. The 3 football players shoved him around in the hallways until Hernandez snapped. 2 of the 3 ended up in the hospital and Hernandez was put on a long term probationary status, luckily with nothing on his criminal record. The summer of his sophomore year he hit a growth spurt that left him a 6'5". His former bullies were practically horrified when he returned his junior year, often attracting other bullied students to him. Now, it was his job to protect others, a position that he didn't mind. During this time he also began looking at a career of medicine that would challenge both his intellect and his physicality. Against his parents' wishes and in the face of his exemplary grades, he abandoned their dreams of college and enlisted in the US Air Force soon after graduation.

Pararescue School is no walk in the park. The 2-year pipeline punished both physically and mentally. His indoc class started with 120 airmen and graduated with 19. Hernandez graduated at the top of his class and began searching for a new challenge. He deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan 5 times. His unit was often called over any other medical resources in the area due to both the reputation of pararescuemen and Hernandez himself. One specific operation involved Hernandez and his wingman jumping into a remote area of Iraq to extract a critically injured Polish contractor. The contractor had his leg blown off in an IED attack and required immediate trauma care. Hernandez and his wingman landed in heavy contact and proceeded to fight their way to the man where they began rendering medical care, unphased by the bombs and bullets flying above. He then carried the man 12 miles under fire into a safer area where they could extract him by helicopter. Interestingly enough the man worked for the same company as Ela Bosak. For their efforts, both men were awarded a Bronze Star with Valor. The 24th Special Tactics Squadron was the Tier One unit of the Air Force and were impressed by the young man's exploits. He was approached in 2013 to join and was subsequently deployed all over the world. He interacted many times with DEVGRU, better known as Seal Team 6, and Delta Force, alongside other US and international units. His performance and credibility are unquestioned by all those who worked with him, and that has piqued Six's interest.

Psychological Profile: Specialist Hernandez's early life experiences definitely imprinted onto his personality. His loyalty to his country and to those serving around him is unquestionable. He has repeatedly exposed himself to hostile fire while trying to rescue those around him. However, he is often disturbed by those who used their power to extort those weaker than them. Whether this is an innate trait or something learned through his years of relentless torment is unclear.

Hernandez's experiences have hardened the young man and as a result, most of our personality tests were inconclusive. The best glimpses of Hernandez have come second hand through other operator experience. Both Craig "Blackbeard" Jenson and Meghan "Valkyrie" Castellano commented on his exceptional professionalism, teamwork, and work ethic, however, they were disturbed by Hernandez completely disregard for personal safety. According to military records, he went through 4 ballistic plates in 1 month. As soon as the mission was over, Hernandez would disappear.

 _For as much as we worked with him, we barely had any idea of who he was. Just the crazy airman who would run around like it was a wild west gunfight._

Erik "Maverick" Thorne provided a little more insight considering the pararescueman has helped him on more than one occasion.

 _Hernandez is a quiet professional. He hates recognition for what he considers part of his job. However, he is also extremely competitive. When he dedicates himself with a task then he will finish or die trying. He is also a hard person to read. I can never tell what he's thinking and it both interests and disturbs me._

For the record, Ela Bosak was asked if she had ever met or worked with Specialist Hernandez. Her facial expression became somewhat odd, however, she suppressed it immediately and responded with "No, not to my knowledge". There is some type of connection but it is unimportant at this time.

Hernandez has had to repeat a battery of personality tests 3 times and everytime his results turn up as inconclusive.

My recommendation is to place him alongside some of Rainbow Team's quieter members. Perhaps Mute and Glaz can break the wall that Hernandez has placed around himself. Maverick is another who may be able to ensure we retain Hernandez and his expertise. Hernandez's experience in wrestling should not be taken lightly, he is a 2x Cadet World Champion and was on the Air Force wrestling team and Team USA. Keeping him engaged with sparring partners such as Maxim "Kapkan" Basuda may be another avenue to break down the young man's walls. His quiet demeanor and large size give him an imposing presence, however, his intellect and expertise in trauma care make even Gustave "Doc" Kateb jealous.

A final sidenote; Hernandez is also an ametuar musician and guitarist alongside many other odd talents and hobbies. The two guitars he own were both presents from fellow airmen who he often entertained in between missions to keep their minds off some of the experiences in that line of work.

Unique Ability/Gadget: Mk 5 "Fog" Smoke Mines, AN-PVS 45 "Watchman" Goggles, PEQ 15 IR Laser

Hernandez's unique gadget is more combination of multiple. Battle proven, Hernandez has used this trio of gadgets to great effect in defense of his patients. The smoke mines allow him to set up an ambush and lie and wait. Once the mines are tripped, the panoramic thermal goggles give the airman the true advantage. The wide field of view keeps him well informed and the laser on his Glock 18C machine pistol keeps him deadly accurate.

Loadout:

Primary:

Mk18

SCAR-L

Secondary:

G-18C


	2. Prologue

Iraq 2011:

James Macintosh sat pressed on the wall wondering if he was going to die here, in this shitty little farm town in the middle of the fucking night. The veteran MARSOC member and now CIA operator sat as he heard the screams of one of the Polish contractors. The poor bastard had stepped on an IED, and now his lower half was missing as the team of both CIA and contractor medics worked to stabilize him. Machine gun fire screamed overhead and nailed one of the local Iraqi guys. "Macintosh, get off your ass and see if we could get some support out here.", someone screamed over comms. Macintosh pulled off his backpack and tuned his radio into the ISAF emergency frequency. "Any units on this net, this Anvil 6 Romeo, we are pinned at the town of Abu Ghabar and need serious support. We have a serious casualty and are being fired on by a battalion-sized force of insurgents.", Macintosh said into the radio. "Roger Anvil, this Baghdad TOC, standby while I coordinate assets," the voice said calmly. "Anvil, this is Baghdad, nearest combat assets are 25 minutes out. We have a medical asset already in the air. ETA is 10 minutes", the voice continued, "Anvil, are you in a defensible position?". The group had taken refuge in a large compound that stretched the length of a football field and spread out among the four walls to return fire. "Yes", Macintosh replied. "Good, now I need you to get some type of IR signal for the medical asset to see.", the voice on the other side spoke. "I've got an IR lasso.", Macintosh responded, pulling a small IR beacon on the end of a paracord. "Great, I'll tell you when to light it. Don't worry they are 5 minutes out.", the voice said. Macintosh didn't respond as the radio fell silent. The team had linked up with the Poles on some intel that there was an HVT in the town. One of the contractors, the woman, starting running after some kid that ducked into an alley and her buddy tried to keep up with her. Then he stepped on a can in the road. Guy got thrown like 10 feet and all hell broke loose. All for some dumb fucking bullshit. _FUCK._ "Fuck, I'm hit", Fitzgerald, a former SEAL, screamed. At that moment Macintosh heard the drone of a plane overhead. _A plane, unless it's got some GBU's it is fucking useless._ "Anvil, I need you to start up that IR lasso", his radio crackled to life. "Roger, tell me when the asset has eyes", Macintosh said, as he spun the beacon in a circle and hoped that that thing had some type of ordnance. But it never turned around.

"Goddamn, I see that bright son of a bitch", Sgt Charles Morgan called over his helmet COMTACs to his fellow PJ. Hernandez was silent, as usual, while they fell. "Pull ripcord in 3,2,1.", said as he yanked on the cord slowing him immediately while Hernandez followed suit a second later. They drifted lazily over the town which was alive with gunfire. They could see the silhouettes of insurgents firing at the compound of friendlies. Both PJ's broke into a circular pattern and descended quickly to wide-eyed contractors and CIA alike, landing directly in the center of the compound. "Hernandez, get on the fucked up guy, I'll help you once I'm done with that guy", Morgan said as he pointed at a soldier being carried to the medics.

Luke Hernandez nodded and turned to the prone soldier surrounded by a team of medics. He quickly kneeled and examined his wounds. _Double AtK amputation. Serious shrapnel wounds to arms. Tourniquets on both legs._ "You gave any meds?", Luke calmly asked the medic across from him. "No", he replied, somewhat confused. Luke quickly pulled out a bag of blood and quickly started an IV. The pool of blood around his wounds meant he was dangerously low on fluids. The guy had maybe an hour or two left if he didn't get surgical care. "He needs a field hospital, not a PJ. You've done all you can do for him and so have I. Tell your people to get ready to move", Luke said, as he began packing the wounds on the man's arms with gauze. "We gotta get this guy out of here Morgan", Luke said over his radio. "Roger, the guy over here only has a through and through, I'll call it in", Morgan replied.

"We can't leave, we still need to find the HVT. He's a ghost. If we don't catch him now he'll disappear.", the contractor commander explained. The insurgents had pulled back, partially due to the appearance of a USMC Cobra, giving the group time to strategize in the large central house of the compound. "Your man isn't going to make it if we don't get him out of here and we can't just waltz out of here by ourselves," Luke explained. "We'll go with you, we've stayed in this shitshow long enough. Contractors are on their own", the CIA commander blurted out. The contractor looked like he just shit his pants. The female contractor stepped in, "That's not happening. You came here with us because you Americans wanted the glory and now you want to bail. That's cowardice.", she said. "Lady, if you want to die be my guest. But sometimes you gotta call it quits.", Mr. CIA said. "You know PJ, you need to be careful. If you're leaving we can't say that we could help you if your teams got ambushed.", the contractor commander said, obviously a veiled threat. The room filled with a silent but palpable tension. "Did you just threaten me you fuck?", Luke questioned as he placed a hand on his sidearm. However, the female contractor placed the barrel of her M4 on his temple. "Come on American, give me a reason to blow your head off," she said. At this point, the Mexican standoff had escalated and Morgan looked ready to mow down the whole room with his SCAR while the two commanders aimed their rifles at each other. "Well, this is what I fuckin live for. Come on. Do it. The only thing that will happen is everyone kills each other. The mission is a fail and nobody lives", Luke said as he placed his hands back on the table. "Well, commander it's a 2-1 vote that we scrub the mission. Let's just put our weapons down and get the fuck out of dodge", Morgan offered.

The file of soldiers lined the road for 100 meters trying to keep up with the unforgiving pace of the PJs. The fact that they were carrying an injured man and all his gear made it worse. The exfil point was still a kilometer away and now the group was being tracked by an AC-130 and a Predator drone overhead. Luke thought about the fact of almost dying from friendlies rather than the enemy. _What a fucking joke._ _These fucking people would rather let their friend die than fail the mission._ The idea of it made him furious more than the almost shot him part. They came to the LZ; a dusty and flat outcropping. The group fanned out as Luke signaled for Morgan to call in the bird. After a moment, he heard the _**whump whump**_ of the Pave Hawk's blades. The helicopter broke into a circular flight before finally approaching and landing. The PJs loaded the injured man into the bird and quickly shoved everyone onboard. The bird strained upwards as the last man, the contractor commander jumped on board. The crack of the rifle was barely audible over the sound of the engines but the armor piercing bullet ripped through the vest of the contractor as if it was paper. His eyes rolled backward and he tumbled over the edge and into the night. Luke had already hooked himself to the hoist, a precaution he always took due to PJs constant movement in flight. He dived out the door and caught the contactor's torso and hooked his vest to the rope. They dangled underneath the chopper as the .50s opened up on the surrounding desert. Morgan flipped the switch and the hoist lifted them up as the bird sped into the moonless sky.

The rest of the ride was silent save the groans of the three injured passengers. The commander had been stabilized by the time they arrived at Al-Asad Airbase. They quickly offloaded the patients and by the time that all the passengers jumped onto the tarmac, the PJs had a new mission. The contractor stared at the helicopter's ascent, wondering what kind of man would save a person who threatened to kill him.


	3. FNGs

Chapter 1

Gustave "Doc" Kateb was a man who was rarely impressed by the careers of others. However, to say the young man's file was promising would be an understatement. Kateb needed more help in the medical side of Team Rainbow considering the only other medic was Oliver "Lion" Flament, and, their relationship wasn't exactly positive.

"So why am I here Six?", Kateb asked looking up from the file at Six, director of Team Rainbow.

"I want your input Gustave" Six replied

"Olivier was needed, but I want you to approve any future medical personnel".

"He has the pedigree to be here. I see no reason not to bring him here", Kateb replied.

"Good, you're going to recruit him then", Six replied with a sly smile.

"What!?"

"Luke is sick of the 24th. I need you to convince him to come to Rainbow.", Six continued, "Your flight to North Carolina leaves in four hours".

15 hours later…

Kateb was exhausted, he was falling asleep at the wheel of his rental. He practically starting cheering when he saw the sign for Pope Field AFB. He pulled into the address given by Six and walked into what seemed to be a small brick barracks. Inside the lobby was a lone airman watching camera feeds. He nodded at the young man and flashed GIGN credentials. He kept walking down the hallway past rooms of sleeping airmen, looking for a giveaway where Luke's room could be. Then he saw it, a room with a huge Texan flag draped on the wall. Besides the flag, a desk, and a bunk there was nothing else.

"Excuse me, sir, are you looking for something," a voice asked from behind. Kateb turned to find a short girl with glasses.

"Yes, I actually am. Do you know where TSgt is?", asked Kateb.

"Yes, he's just down the hall in the gym. Would you like me to go get him?", replied the girl.

"No the won't be necessary," Kateb said as he made his way out the door. He continued down the hall as he heard the muffled guitar solo of a metal song grow louder. He opened the door and was hit with a wave of heat and the smell of chalk. The song was blasting its chorus as Kateb looked around. Most airmen were on benches or using dumbbells, however, one was at the rack. Hernandez. He was mid squat with 500 pounds on the bar. Kateb was dumbstruck by the ease the airman had at lifting it. The young man racked the weight and moved to swap out weights. Kateb approached.

"Tech Sergeant Hernandez?".

* * *

Luke turned around to the sound of an unfamiliar voice and an even more unfamiliar man. "My name is Gustave Kateb. I'm here to offer you a job." the man continued.

6'5" was a lot bigger when you stood next to it and Gustave felt dwarfed compared to the American. He waited for a response from the giant Texan.

"Luke Hernandez, nice to meet you", Luke spoke with a twinge of Texan drawl, "give me a minute and we can take a walk".

Luke clapped his hands to get the chalk off and walked out motioning for Kateb to follow. He continued down the hall to his room and began digging through his locker for a clean pair of trousers.

"Kateb ain't American and you don't sound American, where are you from" questioned Luke as Kateb stood in the threshold of the room.

"France, GIGN" replied Kateb as Luke pulled his trousers over his pair of athletic shorts and began putting on his boots. "Have you heard of Team Rainbow?" asked Kateb, as Luke stood up.

"Once or twice from SEALs, something about terrorists hunters, blah blah blah, black ops" responded Luke, "let's walk and talk".

Both men began walking toward the lobby.

"Six has taken interest in your skills as a medic, I'm all that Rainbow has currently. That's why we want you" explained Kateb.

"I'm in" replied Luke flatly, surprising Kateb. "Just like that?" asked Kateb.

"Iraq and Afghanistan are winding down and we ain't doing anything" explained Luke.

"Well then how fast can you get Hereford?" asked Kateb.

"When's the next flight?"

2 days later..

After some bad weather and a slight delay that left them at an Irish airport for a whole day, the taxi pulled into the front gate of Hereford Base. Both men had passed out in the back seat trying to catch up on sleep. The driver tapped them and then shook them awake. Both men were dreary eyed and made a silent vow to try and move their gear as quick as possible and get some sleep. Luke grabbed his gear and enter the building quickly, climbing the stairs to the empty room that was his new home. A young man passed him in the stairway giving him an odd look. Luke, to exhausted to care, trudged on. He looked above the doors before finding his at the end of the hall, unlocking the door and busting through. He practically flew into the bed as the door close behind him. He was out before he hit the bed. 3 hours later, Luke awoke to a gunshot-like crack. _British weather_. He looked out his window to find a thunderstorm whipping outside. Luke rose up and found all his gear where he left it. He walked out into the hallway and found it empty. _Where the hell is the gym in this place_. He walked down the stairs and into the bottom floor of the barracks. He heard laughs coming from what he could guess was the rec room. Very carefully he dashed across the opening hoping no one would notice him.

"Specialist Hernandez, it is a pleasure" a female voice called from the darkness of the lobby. An older African-American woman stepped out from the darkness into the dim skylight.

"I'm guessing you're Six" Luke asked.

"You'd be correct", she replied and then paused, "we'll be doing formal introductions tomorrow. I'd recommend you network a little bit before then. You may see some familiar faces".

1 day later…

Slowly, Luke rolled out of the mattress and sat up on the edge of his bed. His watch read 5:43. The 1 or 2 hours of sleep did very little to help his already exhausted state. He laced up his boots and stood to go shave when someone knocked on his door.

"It's open" Luke shouted.

The door opened to a familiar face. _Craig Jenson_. Luke had served with the SEAL on multiple occasions and was a little glad to see that he had been recruited.

"Six wants you to give a nice powerpoint on your life," Jenson said.

"No surprise", Luke replied. He stood up and followed the SEAL down the hall and down the stairs. After a brief walk across a parking lot, they came to a warehouse-like structure. They entered the lobby and Jenson placed card on a door panel and waited until it turned green. He opened the door and entered the room with Luke. Inside, there were over 30 people in various uniforms, but, all of them turned their heads when they saw a new pair of Multicam fatigues walk through the door. Luke felt like the new kid. Kateb and Six stood at the front of the room. Luke recognized some faces, Meghan Castellano and Erik Thorne. All colleagues he had served with in some capacity over the past few years. The presentation was a brief little affair that gave out some details on his career and his job in specific, however, Luke was unnerved by the piercing sets of eyes on him. Once he was done, Luke moved to the side of the room as Six detailed the agenda of today. The early day was mostly free time until around 1600 at which point a class was scheduled.

"Tactical Trauma Care, taught by our brand new trauma specialist", Six announced and motioned in his direction.

Finally, a team workout was scheduled for that evening. Lovely. She concluded the brief and turned it over to an older looking soldier, the apparent ground leader of Rainbow. He dismissed everyone and the room quickly emptied. Luke quickly followed suit and made his way back to the barracks. As he crossed the parking lot with the mass of operators he couldn't help but grin. It was almost like college with guns. All of the operators chattered incessantly like kids coming back from a long weekend save a few of the obvious outcasts. Luke split off and entered the building from another door to avoid further interaction. He walked up the stairs and quickly ran to his room. Once inside, he opened his closet door and started laying out his kit on his bed. He needed to calm his nerves and the range always helped. His rifle lay pristine in his hard case and his Glock machine pistol's slide shined in the warm morning light of his window. Carefully, he disassembled his rifle and examined all its parts for dirt or damage before reassembling it, and repeated the process for his handgun. He slid the vest over his torso and clipped his belt around his waist. After ensuring both fit properly, Luke grabbed his case and slipped into the hallway. Climbing down the stairs and walking to the lobby, Luke was almost home free. He started to push open the door, then.

"Привет, you leave so soon new guy".

Behind him a Russian leaned on the doorframe of the rec room, tracking him with his eyes.

"Shooting isn't fun without friend, here I go with you", the Russian continued.

Luke although irritated wasn't totally against the idea as he had no clue where the outdoor range was, his original plan. The Russian disappeared down the hall and returned a minute later with a beefy looking LMG.

"My name is Shuhrat Kessikbayev, but people call me Fuze. I'm with Spetsnaz. The rest of team are back in Russia on leave", the Russian said, extending a hand. Luke gave him a hearty handshake and they both exited the building.

The range was a half a mile down the road and was already busy with local military activity. Luke placed his case on the table and loaded his weapon as Fuze did the same.

"American, I make deal with you, we hip fire and whoever hit target more wins", Fuze said.

"You know, if your gun didn't have a hundred round belt I'd take you up"

"An American is scared to lose to a Russian. What a surprise".

"How about this, most rounds on target in 5 seconds".

"Sounds like deal, if you win I will clean your rifle for next month, if I win you have to go to help me pull little prank", Fuse said laughing at the thought.

"Deal"

They recruited one of the British soldiers on the range to keep time and made ready on the line. The soldier started the clock which made a loud beep and both operators started to empty their weapons downrange. As soon as Luke heard the click of an empty mag the soldier called cease fire. Fuze rushed forward like a kid on Christmas with Luke right behind him. They both tallied up their targets. _22 hits._

"How many", Fuze asked.

"22".

Fuze started laughing, "It looks like you will be on Monika's shitlist for long time American. I got 25".

"Damn Russians"

It seemed the Russian was growing on him. They both returned to shooting and for the first time in a few months, Luke had plain old fun.

The medical class was dry, as always, and most of the operators had trouble staying awake until Luke threatened to tourniquet the next person to fall asleep. The result was a redhead FBI operator groaning in pain for the rest of the class. After the class was finished, Luke quietly slipped back to his room and started cleaning his rifle. The time flew and Luke was almost late to the evening workout. Thatcher stood in front of the group of operators and behind him laid a large mat on the indoor track of the gym. A wrestling mat.

"Today we're going to have a little intramural fighting tournament. Striking is legal but we're looking for a pin or submission, not a knockout.", the old Brit explained, "and obviously we want to start with a good match so let's see Hernandez and Cowden".

The two operators stood across from each other and shook hands as Thatcher signaled the start of the match. Cowden tried to grapple with Luke but before he could react the adept wrestler threw him like a ragdoll, straight onto his back. Thatcher began the 20 second pin time as Cowden struggled to turn but Luke's vice grip held the Scot on the ground for the full time. Slowly the bracket dwindled to 4 people; Luke, SAS guy named Porter, a Pole named Zofia, and the FBI agent named Cohen who still look pissed from the tourniquet incident. A long time SAMBO champ, Zofia put a good fight until she put her weight too far forward allowing Luke to throw her. Porter was outmatched by what appeared to be Krav Maga moves. Cohen's throws were flawlessly executed and Porter could not keep up. He finally tapped out after Cohen trapped him in what could only be described as a brutal upside-down wristlock. Thatcher raised her hand as the FBI team, alongside a couple operators, clapped. "Hernandez vs Cohen. Championship round." Thatcher announced as operators propped themselves up to watch the anticipated bloodbath. The FBI started cheering for Ash and a few pity clapped for Luke as he stood up and walked to the center of the mat. "There's no shame in forfeiting", the redhead said with a grin. As Thatcher blew the whistle, the redhead threw a salvo of jabs at the Texan's face. One brutal uppercut connected with his jaw knocking him off balance. _Welp, that hurt._ However, the next swing she threw was intercepted by the Texan who returned the sentiment with a devastating straight leg kick to the gut. The FBI agent was sent flying to a chorus of resounding "Ooohs" from the audience. The Texan wiped the blood from a newly formed cut above his right eye and locked onto the redhead, still recovering from the kick.

* * *

Eliza Cohen was in serious pain, she had been shot many times and preferred that to the pain in her gut. She tried to stand up but had her legs kicked out from under her by her opponent. However, before he could capitalize the situation, Eliza locked her hands on his arm and wrapped her legs around his shoulder, trying to put him an armbar. The airman was in a bad position and he knew it. However, what he did next no-one saw coming. Keeping his hands locked together, he got his feet under him and began to strain his legs upward. Slowly, Eliza felt the ground under her back disappear. The Texan had her six feet in the air, hanging off his arm, like a monkey. Then she hit the ground. Hard.

* * *

Luke stood up. He was scared for a moment that he may have killed the FBI agent. However, she slowly rolled over into fetal position trying to catch her breath. Thatcher blew the whistle and Luke walked over to the prone redhead.

"Hey trooper, you good?", he asked.

The redhead made a slight nod while grimacing.

"American, you were supposed to pin the girl, not kill", Fuze said trying not to laugh as walked over, "but none would blame you if you did". Luke, offered his hand to Ash who swatted it away and went back to curling up on the mat.

"You're not going to be able to catch your breath like that trooper", Luke advised and slowly sat her up.

"Trooper? How'd you know I'm - was airborne?", the redhead asked trying to get her mind off the pain.

"Red boots. Worked with the IDF before.", Luke explained flatly.

"I think you broke some ribs", she abruptly said.

"Which side?"

"Right, and right on my side", she replied.

Luke looked around. By this time only Fuze was left in the gym with a stupid looking grin on his face.

"Hey, get me Doc", the Russian nodded and left.

"You certainly are out to cause me pain. Two times today."

"Three", replied Luke as he pressed his finger onto her side in search of any obvious fractures. Eliza tried to hold in her yelp.

"I can't feel any breaks, but you could have a hairline fracture", Luke explained. At that moment, Doc came in.

"Hernandez, you know there is a no in between do and harm?" the Frenchman asked with a grin. The two medics hadn't conversed since the taxi ride to the base but the friendly nature of Kateb reminded Luke of his old wingman.

"Think she broke a couple of ribs", Luke explained.

"Certainly building a reputation, _mon ami",_ the Frenchman laughed.

"Wasn't expecting a UFC fight", Luke said.

"You two done making jokes at my expense", the FBI agent asked.

"Maybe", Kateb replied.

The two put her arms around her shoulders and slowly lifted her upwards. "Can you walk?", asked Kateb.

"Kind of"

They slowly made progress what Luke guessed was the infirmary. He really needed to take the time to look at a layout of the building. Waiting outside the destination was another familiar face. _Castellano_.

"If it isn't the prodigal airman. Guess they finally recruited your replacement Doc", Castellano laughed.

"I hope so, retirement sounds nice when I have to deal with you people", Kateb countered. The group walked through the door.

"Luke, help her to the last bed on the right while I find Meghan her files", Kateb ordered as he turned and began rummaging through cabinets. Luke guides the redhead to the bed and helped her sit down.

"First day and already taking girls to bed. _Tsk tsk tsk",_ the redhead joked. Luke held down a smile as the girl starting giggling.

"Sorry about the whole breaking your ribs thing trooper".

"It's Eliza. Eliza Cohen. Please stop calling me trooper. You sound like those dads that call their sons sport", Eliza teased.

"Eliza huh, you got it sport".

"You and Jordan are going to be best friends. And I'm going to want to pull my hair out when you two Texans are together", Eliza said.

"A fellow Texan? Well, shid pardner, looks like damn fine day to me", Luke replied trying to emphasize what was left of his Texan accent. In truth, the last time he had been to Texas was for a funeral over a year ago and he hadn't gone back since.

"Your name is Luke, right? I kinda tuned out your presentation." Eliza cheekily responded.

"Yes it is," he said and then paused. "Well Eliza, I think I'll be leaving you to your misery"

"See you around. And I forgive you for almost killing me", she said smiling as he walked away.

* * *

"I see Lone Star already have girlfriend", Shuhrat said to Meghan, standing in the doorway of her room.

"I know, I heard her giggling in the infirmary like a 16-year-old cheerleader talking to the captain of the football team. Remember that British soldier she dated?.", Meghan asked, grinning at the memories.

"Poor bastard, she nearly kill him at bar one time in drinking contest. Maybe I should tell Jordan, he will have field day on Eliza when he hears"

"If you tell anyone then I will tell them about the helicopter incident", Meghan replied.

"Hey, it was only joke", he blushed. Tina would kill him if word got out about that. _It wasn't even my idea._

* * *

Luke sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the photo in his hands. It was the only other decoration he traveled with. It was a picture of his graduating class at the final EMT school PJs attended. 18 airmen, including him, sat in full kit while Charles Morgan held the class flag at the side. Class 08-13. They survived 9 weeks of indoc and 2 years of the most mentally demanding training on earth. He remembered the one day that Bernardi had put his boots on the wrong feet but the instructors wouldn't let him fix it. He almost quit but everyone practically held him down when he stood up to blow the horn. Bernardi was dead now. IED got him in Enduring Freedom. 5 others were gone too. Iraq and Afghanistan. He stood up and placed the photo on the corner of the desk. He sprawled back onto his bed and stared at his ceiling. If he was lucky or exhausted he might get 3 hours of sleep. Just him and his thoughts now.

* * *

Los Angeles, California

"Michael grab the fucking money", Ryan Carson screamed.

Two squad cars pulled up out front but the officers were unable to get out before their cars were hosed with bullets from Jace's M249.

"We got an air asset inbound and they just called for SWAT", Murtaz yelled, he was listening to police frequency closely.

"Let's go, I got it", Michael said running around the corner with a full duffel bag and the bank manager. Carson unholstered his 1911 and shot the manager in the face. Blood and brain splattered the wall. One of the women on the floor started crying.

"Carson what the fuck!?", asked Michael, his glasses covered in brain matter.

"Just in case", Carson shrugged, "now let's move".

All four walked out the front door and into the late morning light. Four more squad cars came blasting down the street with the lights on. Carson and his team raised their weapons and emptied the guns into the approaching vehicles. Once all the cops were definitely dead, they started running for their getaway car; an unassuming Toyota.

"Carson, we got tac units less than two blocks away", Murtaz said as the four heavily armed and armored robbers got into the small sedan.

They took off down the street and took an immediate left. In the rearview mirror, Carson could see an armored truck turn the corner as a helicopter flew overhead. For the next few minutes, they rode in silence, waiting to see if they were going to be pursued. Finally, they pulled into the darkness of an underpass and Carson put it in park.

"Carson, why the fuck did you shoot the manager? Robbing is one thing. We can't be fucking murderers. You may not remember but a long time ago we took an oath to protect and serve?", Michael yelled. "He could've identified us", Carson responded coldly, while Jace nodded her head in agreement.

Michael Romano tried to hide his disgust. Both him and Murtaz had noticed how ruthless their other two squadmates had become. The group of former cops had been laid off after they tried to expose their own corrupt station chief. Instead of being arrested, he got a fat promotion and they were fired. Ryan even went to prison on some whipped up corruption charge. When he came out, something changed, he changed. They had started by trying to expose the system that had ruined their lives, but now, Michael feared that they had become worse than the very people they were supposed to be fighting.

"Just put your shit in the back. I want to get out of here before they lock this shit down", Carson said.

They took off their body armor and masks and placed their weapons alongside the gear. Once they were back in, Carson threw the car in reverse and began speeding down back streets trying to avoid major roads. After a tense twenty minute ride, they arrived at their destination; a simple sheet metal warehouse. They quickly unloaded the gear and ran inside. After checking their gear, they met at the table in the center of the space.

"What's our next move Carson", Jace asked joyfully, like a kid wondering what she got for Christmas.

"Listen, we only got one more of these hits. Then we'll have enough funds to pull this off", Carson said, acting like this was supposed to be good news to Michael.

"For what Carson. What's the endgame here", questioned Michael. Carson looked at Michael with fury in his eyes, a look he hadn't seen since the chief had him put in cuffs six years ago.

"Redemption".

* * *

Authors Notes:

What's up guys and gals. This is my first fanfiction and I'm trying to get better at writing so bear with me. This is obviously the first real chapter of the story so stay tuned. I am a student and athlete so don't give up hope if there are any long pauses between chapters. I'm looking to make this a good 20 to 30 chapter story so get ready. Also if anyone would like to be a beta reader then I would really appreciate it, just shoot me a message.


	4. Paint and Smoke

Luke shot straight upwards. He was breathing rapidly and covered in sweat. He sat there for a moment trying to catch his breath. It was the same nightmare that had haunted him for 3 years now. He could still hear the shriek of the helicopter ripping itself apart in his head as the explosion pounded in his ears. He could feel that his t-shirt was soaked in sweat. Slowly, he swung his legs onto the cold linoleum floor and looked at his alarm clock. It read 4:32 AM

 _For fuck's sake. Couldn't be 30 minutes later_

He stood up against his knee's protests and walked into the small bathroom of his dorm. He flipped on the light and examined his face in the mirror. Stubble was starting to build up and bruise had formed where Eliza had clocked him. An old and faded scar ran from under his left eye to his jawline, a permanent gift from an encounter with an RPG in Iraq. He looked old considering he was only 29.

He decided a shower was in order considering he had neglected hygiene for the past 2 days. He pulled off his damp t-shirt and turned on the water waiting for it to heat up. After a moment the steam began to pour from behind the curtain and Luke stepped in. He took a small pleasure in a hot shower, the steam and heat cleared his head. After a good 15 minutes, he stepped out into the cold air of his room. He grabbed his only towel off of the counter and began drying himself. Now, what the fuck was he going to do today.

* * *

Olivier Flament wasn't one to usually be up early, but, he had neglected to organize medical supplies for a few days and decided to get an early start to catch up. The front desk of the infirmary was covered in half-done requisition papers as he cursed to himself.

"MERDE! Why do we have so little gauze?"

"Probably because Y'all can't go 15 minutes without getting injured"

Olivier jumped. Hernandez stepped out of the shadow of the corner of the room next to the wide open door. The American was unnaturally quiet given his stature.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Good 30 seconds. Need help there?'

"Wouldn't hurt."

"You're Olivier Flament, right? Kateb told me about your career on the flight over here."

Olivier nodded. He could only think about what else Kateb had said.

"I imagine he told you I was an asshole."

"Said you are hard to work with."

"Hah, very reserved of him. There is a list on the desk, it's got all the required amounts of supplies. Just choose one of them that hasn't been checked off and count the cases to make sure we have enough."

"Roger"

Neither of them was for small talk so for the next 45 minutes they worked in silence slowly clearing the floor of boxes.

 _No small talk. No questions. Good man._ If only all the Americans were this quiet. By the time they were done, Olivier groaned. He had over 20 requisition sheets to finish.

"I leave the army but I can never leave the paperwork"

"Hey, keeps us in line"

"So why did you choose Rainbow, Hernandez?"

Luke was somewhat surprised by the question. Olivier didn't even look away from his forms. He contemplated it for a moment. _What had he joined Rainbow for? To run away. No. To leave for somewhere that actually did something._

"Couldn't stay where I was at and didn't have any better options"

Olivier could sense the American's uncomfortableness with the question and his answer. He could see him still thinking about even though he had already answered. _Another member baggage what a surprise._ Then again Flament was one to talk.

"Well. I understand that. Thank you for the help."

A loud klaxon shook the building, startling both operators, as the loudspeakers came to life.

"All operators, report to the mission building with your gear."

* * *

Jordan smiled as he pressed the detonator. This was the best damn part of his job.

"A really big fucking hole coming up"

The Brimstone burned with a blinding white light for a couple seconds then fizzled out. Then the C4 activated. The explosion ripped the wall apart as Jordan and Craig primed to stun grenades. They tossed them in and waited for the pop. Zofia tapped his shoulder and they advanced into the room. Within a second, Jordan and Craig were in the room and had eyes on the hostage, a mannequin, but nothing else. Then, Jordan saw 3 large canisters fly past his face.

* * *

Tachanka was absolutely right about the attacker's arrogance. For a moment Luke was scared that one of the flashbangs would land behind the desk with him but it had landed on the other side. He flipped down his goggles and watched the world turn into black and white as his FOG mine shot smoke charges into the air. He clicked his G18 into full auto and peeked over the desk. He smiled as he stared at 4 operators. They had absolutely no clue what was going on. The closest was no more than 2 meters away. He squeezed the trigger and sprayed into the group. The Glock ate the ammo in less than 5 seconds but the proximity of his targets ensured he had hit each of them and the simunition ensured that they knew they'd been hit too. A chorus of groans and yelps erupted as they fell to the floor.

Just then Tachanka peeked his head into the doorway at the other end of the room. His face turned blue as a simunition round hit him square in the faceplate. _Goddamn, sniper._

From the trajectory, Luke guessed that the guy was posted on some building that provided him with a blind spot in his corner.

Luke holstered his Glock and swung his SCAR-H into his shoulder as he pushed his goggles up. He pulled his COMTAC's mic to his mouth.

"Tachanka is down. Only one left on the attacking side"

"That was absolutely fucking stupid", a voice called from the mass of prone and "dead" operators. The mass gave _**hmm's**_ in agreement

Hernandez stayed silent, waiting for any hint of the sniper's approach. The other 3 had dispersed themselves among the 4 floors of the killhouse to ensure the attacking team didn't pull anything tricky but were now converged on the objective floor. The guy had about 5 more minutes to try to assault but he and Luke both knew it was a suicide mission.

So they waited. And waited. Finally, a loud alarm, identical to the one that had started the whole scenario, signaled the end of the exercise.

Luke put his rifle on safe as the mass of operators stood up with assorted groans. Doc was going to have a fresh round of patients. Each of their right sides had been painted red by simunition. Luke found all their eyes on him. He shrugged and walked out and down the outside stairwell.

At the bottom, Thatcher, the unofficial head of training, stood alongside a very dejected looking operator with a beefy looking SVD, whom Luke hadn't met. Thatcher stepped forward as the 10 operators formed a school circle around him.

"I expect you all to do a more in-depth team debrief so I'll keep it short. Zofia, your plan was ballsy and daring, and it should have worked. Should. However, having your vision obscured with all your group in a fatal funnel was what killed you. Defending team, your strategy was outstanding but you need a better way to deal with that sniper. In real life, there are no time limits. Bloody cunt would've picked off your arses one at a time."

The team debrief was a rather boring affair considering the course of events, but, Tachanka kept it short.

* * *

By the time Luke made it back to his room, it was already 11:00. He pulled apart his rifle and laid it's parts on his desk as he searched for his cleaning kit. However, a sharp knock on the door interrupted his search.

He opened the door and found Meghan Castellano standing in front of him staring at a clipboard.

"We just got your stuff from Pope Field. It's down in the mailroom. I need you to sign for it"

She handed him the clipboard and a pen. He quickly scribbled his signature and nodded.

"You know, you gotta speak some time right"

Luke gave her a grin and set off to the mailroom. He turned into the room and found his pitiful belongings sitting there. 3 boxes of personal items and two guitar cases. Neither had seen the light of day in almost half a year.

He grabbed the boxes first and walked them to his room. _Now the guitars_. He really didn't feel like a conversation, so he needed to be sneaky. He grabbed the two guitars and looked out into the hallway. After ensuring it was clear he snuck his way up the stairs. The hallway was clear.

 _Home free_.

"A man of many talents, what are you a card shark too?", a voice called with a Texan twang.

 _Fuck_

Luke had completely overlooked the small nook that they used as a lounge on this floor. He turned and found Jordan Trace dealing out cards to Jack Estrada and Miles Campbell. Trace hadn't looked too happy after this morning.

"You play those things?", he continued

"Not anymore"

"You have two, and you don't play em?"

"Long story"

Luke turned to leave but Trace pressed on.

"You ain't much of a talker. You know communication is key right?"

Luke nodded. Trace was playing at something, but, Luke couldn't tell what it was.

"You need anything?"

"I just wanted to see you play. We don't get too many musically inclined people around here. Plus, you gotta at least know some country"

Luke detected a hint of sarcasm but also curiosity in his tone. Truthfully, Luke had memorized so many country lyrics that he could play about 80 songs from memory, but, the hard truth was playing brought to many memories back. So he deflected it.

"Maybe another time"

Trace nodded and turned back to the cards. Luke continued on to his room. Slowly he laid the cases on the bed. The first case was a dark leather and in truth wasn't Luke's. He wasn't going to take it out of its case, let alone play it. He stared at the embossed _**C.M.**_ on the top of it. The many nights of smoky base bars and clubs had taken its toll on the finer details, but, it was still looked the exact same as the day Charlie had bought it for 45 dollars after a lengthy argument with Luke over how quickly it was gonna break.

 _I don't understand how this shit is still together._

* * *

Mike looked at the floor searching for the words to describe the morning's training exercise.

"A total and complete embarrassment of the attacking team"

Six grinned. Her intuition on Hernandez was right, and to be frank, she had found the helmet camera footage hilarious. Mike sat across running his fingers through his graying hair.

"Kid has talent. But, his gadget has a lot of moving parts. It's not exactly foolproof. One of my grenades and it evens the playing field."

"Well, Mike, we have to hope that the enemy isn't pouring millions into micro-nuclear physics."

Mike grinned and shook his head. Maybe he did have technophobia. Even for his crutch, the kid did well. Not many people in the world could kill 4 highly trained operators with an oversized smoke grenade and a handgun. Baker sighed and stood up.

"Anything else, Six"

"Actually, yes. We have an arctic training mission in Siberia coming down the pipeline. I need you to choose 8."

"Any preferences ma'am?"

"I'd like to see a Timur and Maxim, then anyone else. I'll need the list by the end of the week."

"They're gonna have a hell of a bloody time freezing their arses off"

* * *

Eliza Cohen hobbled into the rec room, barefoot and in an oversized IDF sweatshirt. Her sides felt like they'd been hit by a truck, which was an accurate description of what happened, but her growling stomach had forced a food run. As usual, by midday, the room was packed with operators, passing time in stupid ways. Craig and Alexsandr were arm wrestling, Craig struggling as the Russian let out a hearty laugh, while Zofia yelled at her husband over Skype for putting a onesie on their son wrong. Just a typical day in Rainbow.

Slowly, she made her way over to one of the fridges lining the back wall of the room and began searching for a reheatable meal that wasn't worse than dog food. She finally settled on lamb with rice and popped it in the microwave. A minute later, her 5-star meal of almost food was ready. She looked around and found Tina and Meghan sitting at a table, gossiping per usual. She pulled a chair back and slowly lowered herself into the seat.

"Welcome back from the dead", Meghan said.

"I swear that a car crash is less painful.", Eliza replied

"Maybe, but at least you can sit down. Remember that time when I couldn't sit for 3 days because Shuhrat wanted to experiment", Tina responded

Eliza laughed a little but the pain that followed wasn't as funny.

"Don't make me laugh. It hurts just to breath", Eliza grunted. She picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of lamb, hoping the food might distract her.

"Sorry", they replied in unison, barely concealing their grins. Meghan nudged Tina who looked straight at Eliza as her face broke into a wide grin.

"So what's up with you and the new guy?"

Eliza nearly choked on her food at the question. The fit of coughing felt like knives were being pressed into her. By the time she was done dying, her face was a little less red.

"Nothing. You all are pervs.", Eliza coughed in response

"Why are we perverts if nothing going on? For nearly killing you, you looked at him with stars in your eyes", countered Meghan

"Why are you so interested in my love life?", replied Eliza

Tina spoke up, "Well, you know."

"Know what?", Eliza questioned.

A silence descended on the table. Tina immediately realized the mistake she had made. Both of them stared at Eliza with an unsure look in their eyes. Her eyes betrayed some hurt she was feeling deep down. Now Meghan had to be blunt.

"You're the only one of us who really hasn't found somebody", Meghan replied

 _What's that supposed to mean. What am I, lonely or weird or something?_

"Sorry, I couldn't find a crazy Russian and I'm not into scissor sessions", Eliza snarled.

"Eliza, we didn't mean it like that. We just -."

"No, just leave me alone.", Ash said as she stood up with a grimace. Forgetting about her food she tried her best to storm out, with the end result being a half stumble out the door. Her mind raced as she trudged on through the corridor.

 _I don't need someone else to be happy. She had everything she needed. A guy was just an extra problem. Plus she didn't even like Luke. No, she didn't. He was just helping her out, that's all it was. Nothing more._

* * *

Shuhrat walked through the second floor as warm afternoon light peered through the large window at the end. He passed his room, continuing on, finally stopping at the airman's door. The day had been long and Fuze needed a drink, but per usual, nobody wanted to go with him. Something about him picking fights. But he figured the American could hold his liquor and a fight.

"Привет, Lone Star open the door"

Shuhrat waited but no response came. He tried again, adding a knock at the end of it.

 _Damnit, wake up. I need drinking buddy_

Fuze pressed on the handle, and to his surprise, it popped open. Inside, was a meticulously cleaned room, hospital corners on the bed and combat boots aligned to the edge of the bed. It reminded Shuhrat of recruit training. A piece of notebook paper laid on the edge of the mattress. Shuhrat stepped forward and picked it up.

 **Went out,  
Should be back before 1 AM  
Craig knows my number,**

 **L.H**.

 _Goddamnit, I bet he's drinking without me._


	5. Tennessee Courage

Luke sat at the bar, nursing what he guessed was probably his 30th shot. Over the course of the evening he'd finished off one bottle of Tennessee whiskey and had already made a sizable dent in the second. The pub was quaint, only a dozen other patrons were here, sitting at the tables talking and listening to music or playing a friendly game of pool. Slowly, Luke knocked back number 30 and poured himself another round. Alcoholism wasn't exactly new to him but it had gotten worse lately, then again he wasn't exactly drinking everyday. The guitars had just stirred up some memories he would rather forget.

A bell rung as the front door swung open, letting in the brisk night's air and attracting the attention of the entire room.

Was it night already!? Fuck.

Luke realized the tinted windows had really thrown off his time perception. Or maybe it was the bottle. A kid practically threw himself threw the door, breathing shakily as he stared back at the door. He turned his head and looked back at the room, Luke catching sight of the blood pouring out of his nose. The bartender looked him over from behind the counter.

"Hey mate, you okay?"

The kid was as scared as a cat. He nodded in response and quickly made his way to the bar, taking a seat on the stool next to Luke.

"Can I just have a water please?"

The bartender immediately turned and grabbed a clean glass. Meanwhile, the kid tried to catch his breath, and every few seconds he would turn his head to look at the door. Up close, Luke could see why he was nervous. His right cheek was swollen and his nose was probably broken, judging by the odd angle. The guy was as skinny as a rail, and didn't exactly look like he could fight.

"What you do to earn that?', Luke asked, startling the kid. The kid stared at him, unsure how to respond.

Before he could answer, the bell rung again, however, this time 5 guys in the usual wannabe chav clothing stepped in. Their apparent leader, clad in some soccer shirt on with track pants, stepped forward, staring a hole into the kid's back. The kid, already knowing his fate was sealed, burying his face in his hands for a second.

"Get your bloody arse outside and take your beating. I gave you 3 extra days for you to pay it back.", the leader exclaimed, with his cronies jeering and sneering.

This is gonna be a fucking murder. Jumping the kid ain't fucking fair. For as much as he wanted his night to go normally, it wasn't right to let this kid get beat down.

Impatient, the leader pounced forward and grabbed the kid by the collar of his shirt. Before he could pull him, Luke shot his hand out, catching him on the wrist and locking eyes with the leader, who was somewhat confused by the whole ordeal.

"Man, chill out. Kid is scared enough. Don't you got anyone else to go beat up on?", Luke said, coldly staring at chav and his goons.

"Mate, I don't see why it's any of you fucking business. Why don't you go back to your fucking drink before I teach you a lesson", the chav threatened.

Should've just left after the first bottle.

"I'm gonna ask you one last time. Very politely. To leave the kid alone or I'll show you and your boys a real fucking lesson"

The gang behind him tensed up, granted they still had wide grins across their face. They were looking for a fight and now one was here. The thing they hadn't realized was that the odds were dramatically against them. Their leader stepped back, a thin smile forming across his face.

"You got a fuckin deathwish. I'll wipe the floor with your face, mate"

"I figured as much."

Luke slowly rose, rolling his sore shoulder in it's socket and taking a deep breath. He looked back as the gang slowly fanned out around him, two picking up pool cues while another slid on brass knuckles. Luke picked up his bottle and took one final deep swig, at the least he wouldn't die sober. It's a sin to waste good whiskey. The kid was still staring at the bartop when Luke looked at him.

"You might want to move"

Within a split second Luke chucked the bottle at the leader's head, knocking him out cold. Now, his cronies stood unsure of what to do next. Luke let out a drunken laugh.

"I thought this was gonna be a fight"

Brass Knuckles charged him first, throwing a wild swing that sailed right by Luke's head. Luke returned with a brutal uppercut that sent a tooth flying. He sidestepped the limp body, but before he could turn to deal with the others a foot connected with his gut. Normally, even Luke would have folded from a kick that hard, however considering his BAC was somewhere in the .20s, he shrugged it off. He grabbed his opponent by the side of his head and threw him into the bartop, and then again into its side, denting the rail that ran just below it with his opponent's skull.

At this point Pool Cue 1 and 2 had pinned him in between themselves. Poor bastards. Pool Cue 1 charged first, and attempted an axe swing at Luke's side. It connected and probably broke a rib, but the mix of adrenaline and alcohol was the best pain killer on the planet. Luke grabbed the cue in the crook of his elbow, trapping the chav in arm's reach. Before he could capitalize, Pool Cue 2 slammed his cue into the back Luke's knee causing it to buckle. Pool Cue 1 let go of his weapon and backed up as Pool Cue 2 readied his cue for another strike. As he brought it down, Luke leaped forward and rolled onto his feet. Facing his opponents again, he rubbed his knee and squared off.

"Gotta admit, you chavs know how to fight."

"Fuck you", Pool Cue 2 replied.

Luke smiled as the now unarmed man began walking forward. Now here's a good stand up fight. The chav threw a straight jab but Luke was too quick, sidestepping his extended arm, he wrapped his hands around the chav's wrist and forced it back towards his shoulder. Normally, the move was just a simple throw, but, Luke threw it so hard that momentum pulled the chav's shoulder out of it's socket. He went down, howling in pain, however, Pool Cue was right behind him, and threw a brutal swing into Luke's chest. The hit sent Luke backwards into the wall as the guy ditched his weapon. He slugged Luke in the face and moved to follow it up with a round hooks to the face and body. Before he could continue, Luke threw a open palm strike straight to the nose, crunching it. The guy stumbled backwards holding his face and Luke pushed off the wall into an American football tackle. As soon as the guy hit the ground, Luke began a series of bone crushing punches to the face until the chav's face was so swollen he was unrecognizable.

For a moment, he just sat catching his breath, then finally he stood up and examined the bar around him. The kid was peeking over the bartop at the carnage around him. The only conscious member of the gang was rolling on the ground as Luke walked up to the bar and picked up his full shot glass. He knocked it back in one swig and threw it back on the counter. The leader let out a loud groan as he came back into consciousness. Luke strolled over the bodies of his compatriots and kneeled next to him, placing his knee in his chest. He put all his weight on it and the leader grimaced in pain.

"Let me tell you something, you will never hurt that kid or anyone else for that matter. And if I found out you did, I will break your fucking arms. Do you understand?"

"Fuck you" the leader spat.

Luke nodded and then pressed his knee even deeper. The guy started screaming.

Before the conversation could continue, bright blue lights flashed through the tinted windows of the bar. For fuck's sake. Six is gonna be pissed. Luke stood up and sat himself back on his stool as two police officers rushed through the front door. One began calling for medical units as the other came up to the bartender who had his cell phone in his hands. The bartender looked at Luke then back at the police officer. The grey-haired officer turned his attention to Luke who wasn't exactly inconspicuous with all the blood on his face and shirt.

"Should I just get in the back of the car, officer?", Luke said with a smile.

"If you wouldn't mind. I'm not gonna end up like one of them am I?", the officer replied with a small grin across his face.

Luke stood up and walked out with officer. The brisk night air stung the newly acquired cuts on his face and the blood dripping down his face wasn't helping either. The officer handed him a rag and opened the back door motioning for him to enter the backseat. As soon as he was in the officer shut the door, leaving Luke in the darkness.

* * *

Meghan Castellano was freezing in Six's office, since all she wore under her dri fit shirt and shorts was lingerie that was supposed to be being torn off her by her girlfriend right now. In the chair next to her sat Shuhrat, who smelled like perfume and sweat. He looked about as annoyed as Meghan. Behind them stood Mike Baker, clad in a shirt and jeans and looked as clueless as them.

"Are we in trouble Six?", Shuhrat asked meekly

"You can wait until Specialist Evans arrives for the situation. I only want to explain it once. Hopefully she can unfuck this whole situation.", Six said, her tone indicating that she was more than pissed.

Moira Evans came through the door with an MPS hoodie covering her bald head. She looked nervous as Six met her eyes with a cold fury behind her gaze.

"Good now that all 4 of us are here, I will explain what happened. I got a phone call from Specialist Hernandez this morning, of course, it wasn't his number. It was the county jail's phone." Six said coldly.

She then turned of her monitors around, showing a still image of a bar's CCTV. Luke was easily identifiable by his stature. Six clicked play and the operators watched the events fold out in front of them. Kid runs in. Guys run in. One tries to grab the kid. Some words. Mother of all brawls. Meghan couldn't lie to herself, it was one of the most entertaining fights she'd seen in a while. When the first police officer stepped in Six paused the footage.

"The bartender and the kid both testified that Hernandez was acting in defense of the young man. Thing is they want to still press charges on disturbing the peace. Evans I'd like you to see if you could get a professional courtesy on disturbing the peace charge. Baker, Castellano, and Shuhrat, due to the fact that your his direct chain of command and assigned mentor, respectively, you will use part of your pay to post his bail. You are dismissed.", Six explained.

They all began moving out the door. However as Castellano was about exit, Six stopped her.

"Make sure he comes and sees me as soon as he's here."

Meghan nodded and followed the others down the hall and out the door. Mike's SUV was the only one that could fit them all. They drove in silence for about 10 minutes, none willing to break the uneasy silence. Then with a wide smile Shuhrat leaned forward between Moira and Mike.

"You have to admit, was good fight"

Mike shook his head and grinned, "That it was. Moira how much is the average DtP bail?"

"Maybe 2000 USD at most", she responded

2000 dollars wasn't pocket change but it wasn't all that expensive either. Split 3 ways it wouldn't hurt them all that much. Plus Meghan knew Luke paid his debts, guy was usually overflowing with cash when she knew him.

After another 20 minutes they arrived at the Hereford County Jail. They got out and climbed the concrete steps to the door. The night receptionist was a little tired but he welcomed them and asked their business.

"We need to see a Luke Hernandez and this woman needs to see you superior" she said pointing at Moira.

"Oh, Mr. Hernandez is free to go, we dropped the charges because the CCTV footage showed the gang was clearly at fault", the receptionist replied.

"What?", asked Meghan, completely bewildered.

"It's true. He's in interview room 4. You'll have to get him cause the intercom isn't working right now.", he said pointing down a hallway lined with one way glass windows.

The group made their way past detectives screaming at suspects and cops questioning gang members to room 4. They stood outside for a moment and observed the happenings. Inside, Luke sat giggling with two other officers. His face was criss crossed with bandages and his left eye was nearly swollen shut. However, what was more noticeable was how drunk he was, his eyes were glazed over and his normally stoic personality replaced with a loud, rambunctious, and giggly one. The officers had given him a coffee to try to sober him up but that much alcohol would take a while to wear off.

Meghan stepped in first followed by Shuhrat. Mike and Moira elected to stay outside. Both cops turned and nodded.

"Your mate right here blew a .28 on the breathalyzer. I'm amazed he can walk normally.", one said as they left the room.

Luke was just now processing his comrades arrival.

"Hey guys, apparently I got in trouble. And my face kinda hurts", he said rubbing his cheeks.

"Come on soldier we are leaving" Shuhrat said helping him stand up.

Although a little wobbly, Luke walked out on his own, saying goodbye to the receptionist on the way out. They got in the car and Mike turned on the engine.

"He can't go to Six like this. He wouldn't even remember the damn conversation", Mike said as Luke sprawled out in the back seat, laughing at his own joke he'd said under his breath.

"You're right but it's Six's orders. I'm not gonna go against that woman.", Meghan replied

They continued on to Hereford with light discussion about Luke's consequences and the occasional drunken outburst from him. At worst he might get hard duty or reduction in pay, but Six needed his trauma skills and he'd proven himself up until this slip up. It wasn't like they were all perfect. Mike had been in his fair share of bar fights, but he didn't get caught.

They arrived back at Hereford and were met by Kateb in the parking lot. He stepped up to the window and looked at Meghan.

"How bad?"

"So drunk he thinks he is funny"

Kateb nodded and pulled out an IV bag and a thick syringe. Meghan knew an IV would help but what was the needle for?

"You're about to watch magic. Zofran, liquid ibuprofen, and a little bit of Narcan", Kateb said as he pushed the needle into the prone American's arm before placing the IV in the other.

Luke stood up, out of the car and by the time they were outside of Six's office he was almost normal, granted his skull felt like it was on fire. They all stepped in and Mike shut the door behind them.

"Take a seat, Hernandez.", Six ordered. What followed was 30 minutes of yelling and cursing, all of which flew over Luke's head. He was honestly having trouble remembering what day it was, let alone why he was getting screamed at. Finally, Six calmed down enough and sat back down.

"Considering what happened, I'm not going to take any serious measures. However, we cannot have operators beating people down in bars like a vigilante. I'm putting you on dry status for a month, extra admin duty for two weeks, and most importantly I'm sending you to speak with Harry about why you blew a .28", Six explained.

Luke nodded, absolutely clueless as to what just happened, and was dismissed by Six alongside the rest. Shuhrat and Mike helped him to his room and by the time he hit his bed he was asleep.


	6. The Hangover

Luke awoke to a sharp rap on the door. His head was pounding and the world was spinning but the worst part was the blinding pain in his chest. He didn't remember the fight at all but he remembered the pool cue slamming into his chest. Another knock came.

"It's open"

The door popped open and Shuhrat stepped in, wearing some jeans and a shirt with some Russian print on it.

"Блядь, It looks even worse with light on it. Hey, at least your still ugly" the Russian let out with a laugh.

"Thanks", simply speaking made his head pound even worse. The light pouring through the window was even worse.

"Are you going to survive friend."

"Just... Just hand me my fucking med bag."

Shuhrat picked up the hefty kitbag and laid it next to Luke. Slowly he propped himself up, unzipped it, and reached inside as Shuhrat leaned against the desk, observing with a wide grin. Finally, he found a fresh IV bag. Working with one hand, he bit off the cover of the syringe and searched for a vein. He found a suitable one in his forearm and jammed the needle in, now 5 minutes or so and he should feel a little less shitty. They sat there in silence as the mixture of saline and a couple of other compounds slowly drained itself, Luke sitting there trying to gauge if he was even able to walk.

 _Maybe just a beer next time. Yeah, just a beer._

Luke stood up. The world was spinning, but, he could put one foot in front of the other. Slowly, he crossed the room to his locker, Shuhrat watching to make sure he didn't fall on his face.

"You may want to step out"

"You got something to hide?"

"Just don't want to make you feel insecure"

Shuhrat shook his head laughing and squeezed past the airman and through the open door. Luke turned back to his closet and grabbed a clean tan t-shirt. His pants were scuffed up too but he didn't have the energy nor the patience to worry about it right then. Painfully, he pulled his shirt off and looked down to see the damage. His chest and stomach were purple and swollen from the fight. He grabbed his new shirt and slipped it on in a slow, painful process before sitting back down. Finally, he grabbed a pair of sunglasses and shut the locker.

Luke stepped out of the room and looked at Shuhrat who leaned against the door. He nodded at him as he led the way downstairs. Everybody was out on some early morning free time apparently, so Luke appreciated not having odd looks thrown his way. Silently the strolled across the parking lot and made it to Shuhrat's car, which was surprisingly a hatchback. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Shuhrat turned the radio on, much to the chagrin of Luke.

"You need food?"

"Wouldn't hurt"

"Thank god, I have been starving all morning. Very long night."

"Yeah, sorry about that"

"Ehh, it was not you. Tina didn't exactly let me sleep. If you understand my drift. Then again you did interrupt the middle of it".

"So why did Six call you. I understand Meghan and Mike but what did you do?"

"Heh. Uhh.", he paused for a moment, "Technically I was supposed to be your mentor. Six saw fit that we were both direct people and somewhat. Tough. No, abrasive men. And, I was gonna invite you drinking but you left. So my fault for not going with you."

Shuhrat continued driving as Luke examined his car. It was relatively new, possessing a touch screen but it was simple. Shuhrat was listening to some Russian rock band but Luke noticed an American country station preset into the radio. Now, that was surprising.

"You like country?"

"Hell no. But Tina loves it, absolutely fascinate her. For 5 hour I had to listen to it when we drive to Scotland. I almost puke. You like it?"

"Can't say I'm a huge country fan. But I'm from Texas so I know the classics. More of a rock guy."

"I figure. Most of American SF like that kind of stuff. Jordan says you have guitars."

"Yeah, but I don't play anymore."

"Well, is waste of money. Ehh, maybe one day we'll convince you", Shuhrat said.

The conversation ceased from there except for the occasional scream from Shuhrat at another driver. They stopped and grabbed some bland meal from a fast food stop and continued on. Finally, they arrived at a quaint manor surrounded by green fields.

"Here we are, Chateau de shrink", Shuhrat said laughing at his own joke

Luke stood up, the IV had run its course and he felt almost normal minus the wobbliness in his legs. Might have been the cue hit more than anything else. He climbed the steps to the front door and waited as Shuhrat knocked on the grand wooden doors. The door popped open and a young middle eastern looking man stuck his head out. He wore tinted eyeglasses and had a dark goatee that needed a trim.

"Shuhrat good to see you. And I'm guessing you must be Luke. My name is Harishva Pandey, but you can call me Harry. It is a pleasure", he stuck out his hand. Luke gave it a firm shake and responded with a nod.

He motioned them inside and into a large with bookshelves, paintings, and an assortment of items from ancient warfare. A crusader helmet here. A full set of legionary armor there. The room felt inviting to Luke. He could live in here if he had to. Harry began digging through his desk until he found a Manila folder. He skimmed through before shutting it and handing it to Shuhrat.

"Anything else Six needs."

Shuhrat shook his head as he ensured the file's contents. Harry had scrounged a tape recorder and began typing into it.

"Shuhrat you can wait in the living room. We shouldn't be more than an hour"

Shuhrat nodded and duck out the glass doors back towards the front. Now it was just Luke and Harry, who was still prepping a bunch of files. Luke didn't particularly like psychs. They weirded him out, and usually, they had problems of their own.

"My apologies. Let's begin", he pressed the record button on the device, "Session 1. Luke Hernandez. Blindside. Luke, do you believe you have a problem with alcohol?"

"Not particularly"

Harry began scribbling notes, "So if I told you to quit you could"

Luke nodded, "I'm not addicted. It's just the easiest option"

"Option for what"

"For forgetting shit I don't want to remember. And I did drink a little too much. I'll admit that."

"So would you say this binge was an isolated event", still looking at Luke, searching for something on his face.

Luke thought it over for a moment. He had never been this bad but he had gotten close before. He was a little disgusted when he realized just how much time he had been spending in bars. He was also surprised that Harry hadn't said anything about his face yet.

"I wouldn't say it's a one-off. But it ain't happening every other month."

"I appreciate the honesty. But I'm going to have to ask you a hard question. Do you think your drinking increased after Master Sergeant Charlie Morgan's death."

The question hit Luke like a freight train. Harry could see Luke's face immediately change, tensing and twitching. What he couldn't see was the ringing and sights that were wandering in the back of Luke's mind. The blood, screams, and fire that had taken 5 good men from this world. He stared at the desk searching his soul, but he already knew the answer.

"Yes"

Harry nodded and immediately scribbled something on his notepad. The question had obviously struck a deep nerve. But Luke was an enigma to all, every single psychoanalysis Harry had found in Luke's file provided no insight on the airman's mind.

"Luke, I understand that you had helmet camera on your helmet that day. Was it recording?"

"Why is that… What's it have to do with this."

The defensive posture was just what Harry needed. Luke was just as evasive as any other patient, but, he hid it very well with cooperation. Now, he had pinned him, but, he needed to push further.

"Do you still have the footage"

"I don't see why this is necess-"

"Luke, did you keep the footage"

"Yes", he gritted through his teeth.

"You watch it, don't you", Harry continued, not expecting a response. Luke sat across from him, his eyes were slowly filled an uncertain look. The truth was often, hard to deal with. Harry had learned this from the other 30 something operators and their problems.

"You obsess over finding what you could have done better. Over finding how it could've been different. But you can't. And it very nearly breaks you. So you drink to help the pain."

Harry paused, looking at Luke. Harry could see that Luke had as much anger in him as any other operator who'd taken losses, but he controlled it very well. He directed at himself rather than others. However, even the strongest willed men could only go on so long and Harry knew that Luke was nearing the end of his rope. He would either explode or implode and neither would have a good outcome. Perhaps Rainbow was just what he needed.

"Luke, you can't live your life blaming yourself. We read all the reports on that day, no other human being alive could have made it off that mountain. Sometimes you just have to let go. There is no weakness in doing so."

Luke drew a shaky breath. Barriers had been broken in his mind, but, Harry couldn't see what the effect was. The airman abruptly stood up.

Harry sighed. Luke's own faults had so deeply entrenched himself in his mind that it would take time to break them. He reached across the desk and pressed the stop button on the recorder. Harry had pushed hard, but, the mind was a tricky thing and required time.

"Well, I think that we've made progress but no more drinking. I know you're a musician and a wrestler. Both are unique talents. Use those to take your frustration out. Not some poor saps at the bar. And talk to people, no man can go through this life alone."

Without a response, Luke stood up and walked out into the front parlor. Shuhrat was sitting on the couch watching a new program and drinking a bottle of water. He noticed the airman's approach and nodded.

"We're good?"

Luke nodded and immediately walked out the door with Shuhrat close behind.

"You okay my friend?"

"I'm fine", Luke replied bluntly. Shuhrat didn't accept the answer but knew that Harry had a tendency to put operators in a sour mood

As they got to the car, Luke saw Shuhrat was staring at his phone. They sat in silence in the car for a moment, Shuhrat staring at his phone. Finally, he put it down and turned the car on. Shuhrat turned to Luke with a wide grin on his face.

"You want to go grab a drink?"

Luke shook his head, he could see why Six had paired him up with the Russian, even if he had shirked his duty for the first few days.

"Not to be rude, but you are the worst fucking mentor anybody could have. But if you're buying and taking the consequences, I guess I'm game."

* * *

Sweat clung to Luke's forehead as he drew in steady breaths. The 80-pound rucksack had begun digging into his shoulders over the last mile and he figured that since the sun was coming up, he should probably call it. He looked at his phone's GPS and calculated his distance. He guesstimated that he had covered around 13 miles over the past 75 minutes, not bad but his pace had slowed by half a minute. He swung the weight off his back and took a seat next to it on the curb. It was a calm Friday morning, two days after his bar incident and four since his arrival at Hereford.

Nobody had really dared mention the bar fight. They gave an odd look for the first day but now it had more or less been swept under the rug. Luke looked around, finding himself among the large kill houses they used for training. The last two days he had tread very carefully, relegating himself to medical duty or staying in his room, much to the chagrin of Shuhrat, who thought of Luke as his new best friend. From what Luke could guess, Shuhrat wasn't exactly the most popular person, especially with some of the more by the book operators. Then again, Luke didn't dislike the guy, even if he was loud and brash. He could see why some would think of him as abrasive.

"You searching for more people to row on?"

In his thinking, Luke had completely spaced out, not hearing the approach of Mike Baker. The old man looked odd in a t-shirt, Camelbak, and running shorts. Luke shrugged his shoulders in response, unsure of how to answer.

"Figured you'd be out running. Didn't figure you'd be carrying the bloody kitchen sink. How much?"

"60 something pounds."

"Bloody hell. We're still 2 miles away from home. How were you gonna get that fat bastard back?"

"A hope and a prayer"

Mike chuckled. The old operator had come to take a liking to Hernandez. He was as hard-nosed and stubborn as Mike was in his youth but one of the most well-disciplined operators he'd ever worked with. Granted, Mike had aged a little before he started picking bar fights.

"Well, I got some business to discuss with ya. But I need some bloody food. Think you and your bag can make it back to base with me in 20 minutes? I'm trying to make it before the rest of the lot steal all the food."

"20? I can do 12"

Luke swung the bag onto his shoulders as Mike began a head start. Luke, not on to be beaten, broke into a hard run to catch up with the old timer who had a breakneck pace. They continued on like that for a mile and a half before Luke had finally caught up to the veteran SAS soldier. His legs burned and lungs strained to keep up as they the barracks came into view. The last quarter mile was an internal battle for Luke and he nearly collapsed by the time he reached the front lawn. The old man looked like he had gone out for a Sunday walk while Luke was doubled over, trying to catch his breath.

"Bloody hell, kid. You PJ lot are animals."

Luke still couldn't speak, simply waving his hand. He unclipped the bag and let it fall to the ground with a loud thud. Sweat was dripping off his face and the pavement under him looked like it had seen a miniature rainstorm. Mike opened the door, holding it for Luke who stepped inside.

"C'mon, I'm bloody famished."

The rec room was filled with operators all grabbing from a table filled with breakfast items. Laughs and conversations filled the room. Apparently this weekend a bunch of the operators had scheduled a trip to London. Shopping. Sightseeing. That kind of bullshit. Shuhrat had extended an invitation to Luke, but he'd politely declined. Groups trips weren't exactly his thing. Luke quickly grabbed some toast and the last few strips of bacon before anyone else could. He sat with Mike, away from the crowd at one of the tables in the corner of the room.

"You said you had some business for me"

"Yeah, mate. Six put together training with the Russians up in Siberia. Week of Arctic patrol and survival. I need a medic up there. Figured you'd be up for a little adventure considering you've only hit the killhouse a couple times."

"What are the teams looking like?"

"It'll be you, Timur Glazkov, Tina Tsang, and Yumiko Imagawa in Team 2. All of you lot have arctic experience and Yumiko is an expert mountaineer like you."

"You guys really do dig deep."

"It's not that hard to find an Expert Pass at US Army Advanced Mountaineering School. Have to say, I opened your file and it actually impressed me."

"That's the usual sentiment." Luke paused, "You said Team 2. Who's in Team 1?"

"Maxim Basuda, Eliza Cohen, Zofia Bosak, Meghan Castellano."

Luke chuckled. 3 females in the Arctic. He found Rainbow amusing in that aspect. Very few women had become tier one but those who had excelled so well that they were here. He figured 3 females in one team couldn't be a coincidence.

"Why the party in Team 1?"

Mike look confused for a moment before realizing what Luke was referring to. He grinned as he formulated his explanation.

"Maxim is normally a lone wolf when he is out in the wilds. Bloody nut is always out there. He'd leave the whole lot of them on their own if he could. We figured less cold inclined operators would make him slow down and work with the team. Granted those operators need to learn the skills of the Arctic."

Luke nodded, "Two last questions then. "What do I need and when do we leave?"

Mike slid over a dossier. The face of it was emblazoned with a dagger through a snowflake. Printed under it was; **Operation Coldstone**

"Everything including the brief is in that dossier. You leave on Monday. Good luck, mate."

Mike quickly cleaned off his plate and Luke followed suit. After finishing his food, he relegated himself to his room. The sun poured through the tall window, lighting the walkway in between his bed and his desk. A FOG mine sat on his desk, skeletonized from Luke's tinkering. He wasn't exactly a technical mind, but he knew his way around a circuit board or a pneumatic pump. The mines were bulky and he needed to find a way to cut down on weight. Each one was nearly 10 pounds and he carried 3. But that would have to wait. He pushed everything to one side of the desk and opened the dossier.

Dozens of sheets of paper were jammed into either side. Maps, lists, and paragraphs of operational briefs. The simple gist of it was being dropped into far northern Siberia and hitting a bunch of land navigation points along the way before linking up and crossing the Yablanovy Mountains to the extraction point. The required packing list was an ungodly amount of things that were mostly there for extra weight.

Luke opened his closet and found the massive rucksack that he used to carry his gear into a deployment. He began filling with the essentials; parka, balaclava, gloves, socks, and some more socks. Getting your feet wet was the quickest way to die in the Arctic. Frostbite would set in and you would die if you couldn't walk. Luke had been to Advanced SERE School in Alaska and some of the other classmates had learned that lesson the hard way. 3 days in an F-22 pilot lost a toe because he refused to change them. The taiga and tundra were unforgiving, unsustaining, and unrelenting. A squeak came from the door as a man in khakis with a long beard stepped in.

"Sorry to bother, I understand you're going to be my medic", the man said in a Russian accent.

"Glazkov, I assume?"

"You'd be correct. I wanted to introduce myself after that embarrassment at the kill house but it had slipped my mind. Do you have all the gear?"

"Just missing a few things I can pick up at the PX. Anything else?"

Glazkov shook his head before giving a polite nod and stepping out. Luke assumed that the guy was just making sure that he didn't have a complete train wreck on his team.

He turned back to his bag. _Motrin, a lot of fucking motrin._ He grabbed a bottle of the painkiller and threw it on top of all the other gear. The list also called for a rifle and ammo so Luke picked up his SCAR's hard case and grabbed his 7.62 mags. He preferred the M4 but it had a tendency to jam in the cold so he would have to use his DMR for this one. Plus, humans could walk off a 5.56, let alone an 800-pound bear. Wildlife was another danger out there, everything is hungry and human is a better alternative than starving.

By the time he was done, he had to sit on the bag to be able to close it. It probably weighed 90 something pounds. The vest and gun would add another 30. 340 pounds falling from the sky was not good on the knees but he had done worse. He looked back at the brief, the mid-September weather would be cold, but the wind forecasted that week was going to make the jump hard.

 _Why do I always get sent to the fucking cold_

* * *

LA, California, USA

Michael Romano sat at the computer staring at the camera footage. He was building a layout of the bank and how quickly anybody could respond. The hacker like set up seemed out of place in the peeling walls of his ancient room. His apartment in Skid Row was ghetto at best but he couldn't afford more on his bagboy paycheck. Nobody was hiring for dishonorably discharged police officers. He was a black sheep in society. A duffle bag full of money sat in his closet but spending so close to the robbery meant that he would look suspicious. Plus he figured Carson would always end up borrowing some of his cut. Romano guessed it went towards drugs. Carson didn't do it around him, but it was obvious at this point.

He refocused his train of thought and looked back at the screens. The Federal Reserve was massive and at any time held 100 million in hard cash. But that was in the vault, which would take nuclear bomb before it would bust open. Instead, he charted out the 3 lockbox rooms the bank had. They sat behind a sturdy steel door, but with enough Semtex, it would come open. Romano carefully plotted the plans into and out of the bank and then expanded his plan to the city level, looking at the time constraint from the first alarm to responders on site. In his opinion, he was the only reason that the gang hadn't been caught yet. However, at this point, he couldn't tell if it was a good thing. They never killed when they started but now if a person looked at them the wrong way they got shot. Carson had no endgame and Romano didn't know whether or not he would just keep going until he died.

Romano looked at his wall. It was decorated by a single photo; his sister and him on the day of his academy graduation. She hadn't spoken to him since he was indicted and nearly jailed for corruption. It nearly broke him when they put him in his own cuffs. They acquitted him but the charges had left their mark. No department would hire him and his own sister wouldn't speak to him. He hadn't even met his nephew. Instead, he sat alone in the dark. Revenge is what Carson promised, and days like this reminded him why he took up that offer.


	7. Winter Wind

The wind of the Siberian taiga howled outside as Luke stood over his bed doing one final check of his gear. Behind him, Basuda and Glazkov sat by the fire going over the jump plans. Two planes would take off from the impromptu airfield that the Interior Troops had set up, then split up heading NW and NE respectively over the mountain range. They would be about 110 kilometers apart at the drop zones and slowly come back together at a rendezvous point in the foothills of the Yablonovy Mts. Then they would have to trek 30 miles over the mountains to the extract point. The mountains would be the hardest part, Arctic weather on a mountain could go from bad to worse on a dime.

Over the past 5 days, Basuda had taught classes alongside other experts on how to survive. Luke's job was to educate everyone on health and well-being in the subzero environment. Mainly it was about how to avoid frostbite and trench foot. The mountains weren't nearly high enough to worry about altitude sickness. Besides that, it had been relatively boring days. Everyone had relegated themselves to their rooms as the weather wasn't exactly conducive for conversation. Even in their room, Basuda and Glazkov kept conversation to a minimum. A huge change compared to their comrade.

Laid out in front of Luke was well over 100 different items that he needed to bring. Climbing harnesses, crampons, bandages, blankets, and dozens of first aid items. Slowly he began meticulously packing them back in the bag. In his teenage years, he was much more unorganized, throwing everything haphazardly in his room. However, unorganization could get someone killed on the battlefield. Taking too long to find a bag of saline meant a bled out patient. Every second mattered.

"Hernandez"

The voice broke Luke's concentration. He turned and found Maxim motioning him over with a folder in his hand. Luke walked over and scanned the papers strewn all over the room's small coffee table. The light coming off the fireplace illuminated the hand-annotated maps, crisscrossed with red and blue ink. The DZs and routes were marked and labeled alongside checkpoints. Everything line was meticulously drawn with a ruler or compass.

"You mind taking these plans over to the females", Maxim asked.

"Don't want to go out in the wind?", Luke replied.

"No you're just already standing up", he responded as Glazkov chuckled behind him.

Luke snatched the folder from his hand and grabbed his parka hanging from the post of his bed. He zipped it up and stepped out into the biting Siberian evening, pulling a mask over his lower face. The rows of wooden buildings were filled with laughter and conversation as the Internal Troops garrisoned here relaxed after a long day of winter training. The females were a few houses down. The sun was just below the horizon as Luke set off, snow crunching under his boots. Two sentries passed by, exchanging nods. After a few minutes, he arrived outside. He climbed the stairs and sharply knocked on the door.

After a few moments, the door creaked open. Yumiko Imagawa poked her head out of the tiny opening, trying not to let in the freezing air. Luke pulled down his mask instantly regretting it as the arctic wind swept across his face and held up the file.

"This is the full op write up. Make sure y'all learn it."

Yumiko took it. Then without another word Hernandez turned and walked away disappearing into the rows of houses. The dying sunlight casted a dim shadow stretching for 20 feet as he disappeared beyond the snow drifts.

Yumiko Imagawa shut the door.

"Who was it", Zofia asked, not even looking up from her computer.

"Probably people sick of your motherly nagging" Eliza called from the bathroom.

"It was Hernandez" Yumiko interrupted, "he was giving us the plans for the op"

"Looks like Eliza's future husband wanted to see her", Tina called from her bunk, snickering like a 5-year-old.

"Tina, I will beat your face in", Eliza threatened from the bathroom.

"I wonder if he likes girls with a temper", Meghan joined in.

 _Those three were such children._

For the past 5 days, after classes, the women had been cooped up inside the wooden barrack keeping themselves entertained by gossiping and annoying the mom of the group; Zofia. It was like middle schoolers at a slumber party. Who was dating who? Which unit was the best? Would Zofia and Ela ever speak to each other? Stuff like that.

Yumiko opened the folder and spilled its contents onto the table. Dozens of maps and guides for each person in the room.

"Zofia, this looks more for you than any of us.", Yumiko said, hearing the Pole get up from her bed with a loud groan.

Zofia gave each paper a quick glance before setting them down and throwing herself in a chair.

"Seems simple enough", she said

"That's it?", Yumiko asked, a little concerned by how quick Zofia went through the plans.

"Yumiko, the Russians already memorized this stuff, and they are the team leads. If they said it then I'll take their word for it"

"Well, I guess that makes sense"

But even then Yumiko could see the routes marked, the Russians were relying on ice that was still fresh to get them over lakes and up a nearly vertical cliff. But Zofia had a point, they knew this environment, not her. Still, her gut told her something was wrong. Zofia stood up, rolling her shoulders.

"Prep your gear, we move tomorrow"

* * *

Timur Glazkov leaned into his jumpseat as the plane shook with turbulence, gripping the sides of his seat so hard that his hands were turning white. He wasn't exactly a fan of planes, especially ones that were older than him. The An-2 had been serving with the Russian Air Force since WW2, so he was a little apprehensive about its flying ability. Across from him, Yumiko and Tina spoke to each other over the loud drone of the engines. More disturbing was the American who was napping in his seat beside him. He could hear the snoring above the sound of the engines.

The co-pilot strolled into the cabin and kneeled next to Glazkov.

"We're ten minutes from the dropzone. Get your guys prepped to jump" he said before turning back to the cockpit.

Glazkov repeated the call to the two girls before nudging the American awake. Bleary-eyed, Hernandez looked up at him as if he had just slugged a sleeping bear. Giving an annoyed nod, the American began making sure all his gear was secure while Glazkov began moving down the cabin to the rear door. From its small porthole window, he could see the endless expanse of snow covered trees dotted with large clearings.

Suddenly, the plane hit a patch of rough air and Glazkov hugged the wall as the plane shook. He looked behind him and saw the girls snickering at his blunder and even the airman with a small grin on his face. A rare sight apparently. He straightened himself out and went back to the door.

A bright red light turned on signaling the final few minutes before the jump. Glazkov carefully threw the door open, letting in a blast of frigid wind. He tried not to look down as he stood at the edge, waiting as the team did one final check. Finally, a tap came on the shoulder signaling everyone was ready. He looked back, seeing Hernandez directly behind, with not even an ounce of emotion on his face.

 _The guy is a statue_.

Then again, after talking to him, Glazkov was confident he was the best choice for any mission. The airman noticed him looking back and nodded, giving him a thumbs up. The aircraft shook again, startling Glazkov as he turned his head back to the door. The horizon was beautiful, jagged snow-covered treetops scraped against the blue morning sky. Maybe he could paint it one day.

Before the thought could continue, the light beside him switched to green. It was time to go and Glazkov was more than happy to get off this damn plane. He stepped off into the sky and fell for a moment before his static line deployed his chute, now he just had to wait.


End file.
